The Loves of His Life
by ChimericalParoxysm
Summary: Three one-shots, depicting each of Remus' three love interests, because true love can breathe more than once. Remus/Sirius, Remus/Tonks, Remus/Lavender. AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the first of three one-shots depicting the three "loves" of Remus' life. All are done for xXSarcasmAndCakeXx's Prompt Me challenge. This chapter's prompts were: "C U Next Tuesday" by Ke$ha, and the words "friend" and "owl."

* * *

So I'll be gone when the morning comes

Let's not pretend it's love

So I'll see you next Tuesday

I don't want anything from this

I got your number, don't call me

I won't sit around waiting

And I'm not just being cold

_Ke$ha – C U Next Tuesday_

* * *

The common room was roaring loud. Gryffindor had won their first Quidditch game of the season, which was, of course, a cause for great celebration. It had been hours since James and Sirius had returned to their House with "refreshments" to commemorate the perfect start to their final year on the team. Remus himself had downed a few shots of firewhiskey, though he was nowhere near as drunk as the other Marauders—nor several others of his peers—and was contentedly watching them make fools of themselves.

The furniture had been shoved to the periphery and Gerard Thomas was dancing about in boxers, singing loudly (and horribly) into his glass. Sirius and James had turned up the music and were grinding suggestively against each other to a raucous audience's laughter. Lily was effectively removed from the scene, smiling in vague amusement, and nursing her own (mild) drink. Remus was hiding in the same corner, sitting beside her in one of the plush seats, and hoping not to get sucked into anything embarrassing, nor into any drinking games which might result in an overly uninhibited state and thus result in said embarrassment.

Just as he was beginning to believe he might have success in this endeavour, Sirius hauled him to his feet and dragged him into the middle of the room, sandwiching Remus behind him and in front of James. The stunned werewolf swallowed hard, reflexively conjuring an image of McGonagall in a bathing suit, and played along. He was drowning in Sirius' dark scent, and couldn't help but imagine that the breath across his neck was his, rather than James', that—. He forced his mind away from the reprehensible thoughts; they were best saved for the middle of the night, in the deepest of darknesses.

Several girls were whistling and catcalling, and Remus was soon blissfully yet disappointedly free as Sirius, in surprise, allowed one of said girls to assuage him with a sloppy but enduring kiss.

The pang in Remus' heart was getting harder and harder to ignore, and he was just about to make a quick escape when Sirius yelled, "Drunken kisses all around!" and pulled Remus into him, their lips meeting roughly. Remus' heart skipped a beat, or possibly several, he couldn't be certain, and the world seemed to freeze as Sirius' tongue slid into his surprised mouth to briefly caress his own. There was a falling sensation in his stomach… and then he was standing alone as Sirius playfully chased after a fleeing James, attempting to deliver the same (precious) prize unto him.

His heart was breaking, he knew, and not for the first time. His eyes met Lily's across the room, beautiful emerald eyes filled with a pained sympathy. _She knew_. The thought hit him hard. If Lily knew, did James know? Would she tell? Could other people see it? His heart was beating hard and the room began to close in on him; he fled, not caring that it was after curfew or that it would make people wonder. He just needed to get out, to get away.

It was cold and dark, not just outside, but everywhere. The weather, the war-ridden mood of the Wizarding World, his inner-most state of mind. He laughed humourlessly at the ironic twist of fate that should befall him, because, really, if anyone needed more hardship, _surely_ it was him. Remus knew he was indulging himself in a pathetic amount of pity, and he didn't usually let himself feel sorry for himself, but tonight he just couldn't bring himself to care. Everyone was entitled every once in a while, right? And surely his situation merited it.

He loved Sirius, was _in love_ with Sirius. He couldn't quite decide when it had started. Months ago, years ago, the day they met… But it was consuming, and terrible, and wonderful, and almost consistently painful. His eyes fluttered shut as he sank into the sensation of having Sirius' lips, Sirius' tongue, on his own; sank into the sensation of having Sirius so _close_, grinding against him for all the world like he wanted—

"Moony, mate, something wrong?" A dark form dropped onto the cool grass beside him, cutting across his thoughts and prompting an internal groan. Of _all_ the people that might've bothered with concern… Bother to follow him. But, of course, that was one of the reasons he loved him. He felt his pulse quicken as Sirius' nearness filtered through his worry, and he tried to subtly shift away. His friend was straight, he knew. He'd "gotten the owl," "received the memo," "read the announcement." Nothing could ever happen, no matter how many fantasies he allowed himself, no matter how many drunken kisses were bestowed upon him.

His silence seemed to be a cause for concern, for Sirius moved his hand comfortingly to Remus' shoulder. "Look, Moony—" Remus shoved his hand off and stood, an unreasonable anger flaring suddenly inside him.

"Look, Sirius," he snapped, "I'd just like to be alone, if you don't mind."

The hurt in his friend's eyes was crushing, and he felt immediately repentant. But he couldn't bring himself to retract the sentiment. If only he could kiss it away…

"Oh," Sirius replied softly, "I—Yeah, of course. If you ever want to talk about it, well, you uh," he cleared his throat, "You know where to find me."

Remus wouldn't ever talk to him about it, he knew—couldn't ever talk to him about it. He watched the dark-haired boy walk reluctantly away and a solitary tear slid down his face. He swiped it away; it would be better this way, he assured himself. With a little time, a little distance, surely he'd fall out of love with his best friend. Then he could just patch things up and everything would go back to the way it used to be, right?

If only…


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Also in response to xXSarcasmAndCakeXx's Prompt Me challenge, with the song _Waking Up In Vegas_ by Katy Perry, the pairing Remus/Tonks, and the prompts **cold**, **wisdom**, and **happy **(the words were used thematically).

* * *

You want to cash out

And get the hell out of town

Don't be a baby

Remember what you told me

_Katy Perry – Waking Up In Vegas_

_

* * *

_

It was only Sirius' betrayal of Lily and James that made Remus' love diminish. He wondered over and over whether it was _his _fault—his coldness—that had caused Sirius to turn to the dark side. He dwelt upon the possibility, his guilt eating at him always, and then Sirius was innocent… And Remus was devastated. If he could make such a horrible misjudgement about the man he loved, make such enormous mistakes along every step of the way, Remus obviously didn't deserve to find love, to find happiness.

He had missed Sirius every single one of those long, long years and now that he had him back, he was going to fix what he could. He spent as much of his time as he could at Sirius' side, trying desperately to renew their friendship, and as he realized Sirius' forgiveness, he began to forgive himself.

Then there was Dora. They began to spend time together in spite of the whispers in the back of Remus' mind. '_Remember what happened with Sirius.' 'You're a werewolf—you have nothing to offer her.' 'You're a ruined man.' 'You're so much older.'_ He pushed them away again, and again, as he fell softly into love with her, and perhaps she with him. He pushed the thoughts away, until Sirius fell. For with Sirius, his strength fell, too, and his constant reminder that there was some good in him, in his heart, and he began to push Dora away instead.

He felt tortured, lost, destroyed, and he couldn't ever inflict that on her. He missed her every moment, and he saw her missing him back, saw her slipping into a deep depression. Slowly, _so slowly _—with Dora and Molly's considerable assistance—he had begun to realize his mistake. Their relationship flourished once more and he was _happy._ She was everything he could ever dream of—smart, and funny, and down-to-earth. She was sweet, and passionate, and dedicated, and brave. He loved her desperately.

xXx

Remus dragged his sorry arse home from the bar one night, with the full realization that Harry was an amazing person. He'd been furious at first. How _dared_ that boy tell him how to live his life? How _dared_ he attack his morals and his actions? He didn't even know a bloody thing. But somewhere—possibly the bottom of his fifth glass—he'd come to the realization that Harry was right. So he'd drank a while longer, revelling in the perfect self-loathing that so often came with drowning your sorrows in alcohol. Now here he was, and he was fairly certain this was his house. Yes, there was the number 46—or was it 45? He squinted, assuring himself it was, and started up the walkway.

He paused at the door. He knew there was something he was supposed to be worried about here, but what _was_ it? The day came back to him. Dora. Pregnant. A _baby_. A baby that would be _theirs_. A drunken grin spread across his face as he opened the door, tumbling through. He stumbled slowly through the house to their bedroom, and swung the door open as gently as he could. It was empty. His heart began to pound with fear, and he felt the alcohol drain from his system. He rushed from room to room, the terror mounting. What if Death Eaters had come for them? While he was off contemplating abandoning her, while he was off drinking his heart out.

He rushed into the living room and sighed in relief. She was curled up on the couch and her hand was rested protectively over her stomach. Her lips were turned in a soft frown, though, and there were tissues littering the floor.

"Oh, Dora," Remus whispered softly, "How could I ever have thought of leaving you? Of leaving our baby?" She let out a soft snore and he smiled tenderly before wrapping a blanket around her and lifting her into his arms. She snuggled into him reflexively and a feeling of perfect contentment flooded through him as he carried his precious wife to bed. Never again would he doubt himself at the expense of those he loved.

xXx

The day Teddy Lupin was born was the pinnacle of Remus' life. His perfect, perfect son. His beautiful, beautiful wife. His_ amazing_ family. He and Dora had laughed as Teddy learned new hair colours, new eye colours, as he'd stared at the world with such wide-eyed amazement. It had been a month of unparalleled perfection; Remus had never been happier in his life.

And then one night the signal was received—Hogwarts was under attack, the outcome of the war was to be decided. The werewolf wasn't stupid enough to argue with Dora about coming. She'd given him that look—full of passion and determination—and he'd nodded grimly, a bittersweet smile on his face, for he loved this part of her though it put her in such danger. They made sure Teddy would be safe with Andromeda, kissing him softly when he began to cry his worry, and then they left together, hand-in-hand.

Dora fell.

The pain that ripped through his heart was unbearable, was almost enough to lay him at her side, but then George was there, picking him up, urging him on. There would be time to mourn when it was over, Remus told himself. There would be time to put himself back together then. He forced the imaginings of his son's motherless future from his mind and dove into a relentless attack upon Dolohov who was cackling as Colin Creevey fell in a glow of green.

He returned that night to Andromeda's home, and he took his son in his arms, and he held him close, for hours. He rocked him back and forth in the rocking chair by the fire, tears streaming silently down his face; back and forth, back and forth. He didn't speak, not a word, but Andromeda had known, and she'd left him alone. He could hear her sobbing upstairs in her room, but he could offer her no comfort. For what comfort was there to give?

George appeared late in the night, or perhaps early in the morning, his face pale, his eyes red, and together they sat in silence before the fire, awaiting with trepidation the morning sun which would cast light over the world and upon the reality of it all.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I completely forgot about this story for a while, and so here it finally is: the final installment. My prompts were the song _Halo_, by Beyonce, with the words **clock** and **prophecy** (which I altered to "prophesising").

* * *

Hit me like a ray of sun  
Burning through my darkest night  
You're the only one that I want  
Think I'm addicted to your light  
I swore I'd never fall again  
But this don't even feel like falling

_Beyonce—Halo_

* * *

The young woman before him bore little resemblance to the girl he'd once taught at Hogwarts. Her robes were shabby, her hair had lost its lustre, and no makeup adorned her naturally pretty face. But what truly bespoke the changes in Lavender Brown lay in her eyes—pretty brown eyes, once sparkling in unending enthusiasm for life, now dulled by a roiling myriad of sorrows. Her eyes stood upon her face as proof of loss, of endings, of the marring of her happily ever after. Lavender Brown was broken.

The years had passed long and slow for Remus, too. His robes now were in no better a state than the girl's; streaks of grey ran through his hair, a testament to the thousand years' burden he'd born in the decade since Voldemort's fall. For their part in the war, werewolves were loathed more than ever, though one Hermione Granger endeavoured always to change that particular injustice—promising, prophesising, change—, and they were outlaws in Wizarding society, scorned and hated.

Remus couldn't remember the last time he'd had a job. He looked across his kitchen—Andromeda's kitchen, really, for that's where he and Teddy lived—at the girl before him, who had fallen victim to Greyback those many years ago. Hermione was trying to set them up, he knew, thinking that their shared curse might allow them to find solace in one another. Good intentions, poor execution.

The silence between he and Lavender was uncomfortable to say the least. They had the hated full moon in common, but very little else, and it was in neither of their interests to sit and bemoan their circumstance. Not only because they wished to escape the reality of their situation, but also because of the pain and mistrust locked within. After several long moments, the silence finally got to Lavender, for she was never much one for it, and so she ventured a tentative question at last.

"How are you so… whole?"

The question itself belied her conversational tone, and he knew that pain raced through the thought.

"Teddy," he replied simply, a small smile rising to his face at the thought of his son.

Lavender nodded her understanding. Remus found himself wondering whether this was truly the same girl, so quiet, so reserved. But pain does strange things to people. Pain makes them age; pain makes them _change_. He remembered.

"He's ten now, isn't he?"

"Eleven, actually. Just started Hogwarts this year," Remus said with pride. "He was sorted into Gryffindor, of course." A boyish grin spread across his face at the thought, and Lavender found herself laughing a long-disused laugh. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, and she abruptly stopped, but Remus felt buoyed by the laughter.

"Tea?" he offered.

"Please."

xXx

That first, awkward, encounter had been many months ago, and many more had followed. Remus had delighted in taking her to places across Muggle London—places well away from suspicious glances and accusatory glares. Her laughter came more often now, a beautiful light sound that filled Remus' heart. Though at first conversation had been difficult, as they tried so valiantly to navigate around the topic of lycanthropy, it now flowed easily between them. They talked about friends, and past dates, and future dates. They discussed books, and the goings-on in the Wizarding world. Slowly, trust grew between them, until what happened beneath the full moon, and because of the full moon, was no longer a taboo subject, and their closeness reached new heights.

"Remus, _where_ are we going?"

The older man merely shook his head, though she couldn't see it, and kept his hands firmly over her eyes. "You'll see," he breathed, barely able to contain his own excitement, and apparated them away.

The hall in which they arrived was beautiful, and Remus was suddenly more than thankful for the dress robes Harry had purchased him for the occasion. He took his hands from Lavender's eyes, and watched carefully as emotions flitted over her face: confusion, curiosity, nervousness, excitement, and curiosity once more. Her fingers ran gratefully over the material of the gown Hermione had made her wear.

"What is this, Remus?" Her cheeks were quickly flushing as she realized she was in the midst of hundreds of other witches and wizards. Anxiety began to mount in her eyes, and Remus pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

"Relax, love. Hermione just has an announcement to make." He watched her struggle to relax. "Come dance with me."

A smile lit up her face in spite of herself, and she accepted readily, losing herself in the music and the movements. Thoughts, though, churned through Remus' mind as he twirled the object of his affection around the dance floor, and between the other happy couples. He'd long come to terms with her age; in truth she wasn't much younger than Dora had been. He was happy with Lavender—in love with her, hopelessly. He sometimes wondered what Dora would think, would feel, if she were looking down upon them. He sometimes worried whether Teddy, who was now home for the summer, held secret contempt for their relationship.

He often worried he wasn't good enough for her.

But Remus let the worries wash away as the woman in his arms pressed closer, happiness radiating from her very being and infecting him beyond his control. He couldn't wait for Lavender to hear Hermione announce a legislative ban on discrimination against werewolves. He couldn't wait for her to hear Hermione announce the instatement of a program to aid those who struggled. He glanced impatiently at the clock; he couldn't wait to watch joy light up her face.

Remus had helped her to accept herself—human and wolf—had watched her heal, had watched the pain in her soul fade; Remus had let her help him, too, to become truly whole in a way he'd begun to forget existed. And tonight, with Hermione's grandest of contributions to their happiness, their struggles would begin to wash away, and their healing could be complete—together.

Remus had once sworn, after Dora, that he would never fall in love again, that he would never move on, that he would never go through it all again, but Remus had long gotten used to being wrong about love. As he breathed in her soft scent, he decided it really was the best way to be wrong.


End file.
